The Little Things Give You Away
by Todd's Pet
Summary: An un-named wraith has to get to grips with his growing feelings for his human slave while she learns that love is not always hearts and fowers and soaring passion


The little things give you away

_Don't wanna reach for me, do you?_

_I mean nothing to you_

_The little things give you away_

_(Linkin Park, Minutes To Midnight)_

She misses her old life. Her home planet was so beautiful; lush, green, fertile land bounded by endless, sparkling blue oceans that lapped onto fine, white sand that she had so loved to walk on every day of her life.

She remembers the men she had walked along those beaches with, hand-in-hand and so in love. How she had taken their shows of affection for granted.

If only she had known then what the future held for her.

Dawn now lives on a wraith hive, endlessly drifting through the depths of space, empty and dark. She knows the wraith are unemotional as a race, but she seems to have had the misfortune to end up with one who would be considered the strong, silent type even by wraith standards.

It's been more than a month since the wraith raided her planet, razing entire villages to the ground. She had thought they had culled indiscriminately, but it seems they spared the young women. She had been surprised to learn that wraith found human females attractive to look at. She supposed that if you were going to share your living quarters with a slave then it might as well be one you enjoy watching - even if you do kill them when you grow tired of them.

But this wraith who has chosen her doesn't seem to even want to do that. He barely even looks at her. From the cuts and bruises some of her friends now constantly have, she consoles herself that having to live with a wraith devoid of all passions may be a blessing. On those rare occasions when she manages to talk with her friends, she learns that most of them had been expected to "worship" their wraith and do chores right from the first day.

But when this wraith takes her to his quarters he simply shows her to a small corner of her own then leaves her alone, telling her to clean herself up and get some sleep. Sleep doesn't come. She lies awake waiting for him to return, fearful of what he will do when he does. When he comes back, it is simply to bring her clothes, give her instructions and tell her to stay out of his way. Dawn is grateful that her chores are no more than basic housekeeping, tasks she is used to. But she wonders why he had bothered to take her at all.

oOo

Another month goes by and Dawn can count on one hand the number of times he's looked at her, let alone spoken to her. One night her curiosity gets the better of her and she takes her courage in her hands and asks him, "Why am I here?"

He simply gives her a brief, puzzled look.

"I do domestic chores for you, but the others…" She hesitates. "The other worshippers… without exception they have to…" He turns and glares directly at her and now she wishes she'd never brought the subject up.

"You _want_ me to abuse you?" he asks her harshly.

"No!"

"So long as you do your chores efficiently further 'worshipping' is of no concern to me." He gives her a pointed look, before turning towards the door. As he leaves he adds, "Be grateful for that."

oOo

And she is grateful, truly she is. She doesn't live in fear of constant beatings - or worse - and he leaves her alone to get on with her chores; normal, every day work, for he doesn't delight in thinking up punishing or particularly unpleasant tasks. She's grateful for that, too.

But why does he have to be so completely unemotional?

Dawn realises she's lonely and she misses the simple things she used to take for granted; a hug, the touch of a hand on her arm or fingers brushing her hair, an arm draped across her shoulder. She could never hope for that from any wraith and certainly not this one.

Even as she resigns herself to loneliness, she wonders if she could dare to ask him to help her tackle her boredom. What if he simply gives her more chores? Sitting alone for hours in his rooms, she decides it would be worth the risk.

oOo

"Bored?" He looks at her incredulously. "You must be the first slave in history to complain of boredom." She thinks he could be about to smile, but then his face falls into a frown and he goes on, "You seem determined to have me mistreat you." At her suddenly alarmed expression he adds, "Do I have to think up new chores for you?"

"It's not the lack of chores," Dawn ventures tentatively, "It's lack of… my mind… there is nothing to -"

He waves a hand dismissively at her. "Idle hands or idle mind," he says. "Either one is undesirable. I will think of something."

The next day Dawn cannot believe how overwhelmed with gratitude she feels when he comes into the room and places a pile of books on the table.

"Perhaps these will occupy your mind," he tells her.

She rushes over to the table and scoops the books up, excitedly picking up each one and leafing through them. They are a somewhat motley collection, but nevertheless, beggars can't be choosers, she reminds herself.

After a few more minutes of preliminary reading, Dawn tentatively holds out one of the books he gave her. "I'm very grateful that you gave me books, but…" she ventures, "A few of them are… well, I can't read them. They're written in wraith, I presume."

He takes the proffered book, opens it, closes it then hands it back to her. "I can teach you to read wraith."

She simply stands there, looking aghast. Just as he seems impatient enough to leave she blurts out, "Really? You would teach me?"

"If you like."

"Yes!" Dawn smiles and very nearly reaches out to him. She can't help herself from feeling as if she wants to hug him. "I mean, yes, I would like that." She steadies her voice and makes her face more serious. "I would like that very much."

oOo

She didn't realise he was still there when she entered the washroom to tidy it up. He's dragging a brush with an elaborately tooled handle through his hair and it snags on a partial braid.

He makes an exasperated sound and flicks the offending braid over his shoulder.

Dawn bites her thumb between her teeth, wondering if she should dare to suggest… "I could do your hair for you…" she blurts out before she changes her mind. "That is, if you would like…"

He shrugs, but then wordlessly hands her the brush.

She has to stand on tip-toe to reach his head, and her arms ache by the time she's finished. She involuntarily blushes a little when she finds herself thinking he looks almost handsome with his hair freshly brushed and braided. But what makes her smile is the contact, albeit indirectly; handling his hair is the first touch of another living being Dawn has felt in months.

Consequently she's ridiculously happy when he seems to take it for granted that she will take on this new chore every day - and even more so when he takes to sitting when she does, so that she can do so more comfortably. It isn't long before she's enjoying the task; even looking forward to it.

oOo

They sit reading quietly together, she with her book and he with his. It's become almost an end of the day routine for her and she finds it oddly comforting, sitting in silence with him like this. It feels companionable, but she wonders if that could ever be possible between wraith and human.

The hive is generally cool and during the day, when she is busy, she doesn't notice it. But tonight, sitting still and reading, she starts to notice that her hands, feet and nose are icy cold.

Almost before the thought enters her head to chafe her hands for warmth, he says suddenly, "You are cold."

"I'm fine, really," she says, trying not to be a trouble.

"I sense it. Come here." She gets up from where she sat and makes to walk over to him, but he adds, "Bring your book."

She turns back and picks up her book from the bench and walks over to where he sits in his chair. She stands and looks at him, puzzled.

He gives her a cursory glance, almost as if she weren't even there, then points to between his knees. "Sit," he says. "It will be warmer."

Her eyes widen in disbelief, but nevertheless, she does as he tells her and sits on the floor between his knees. Cautiously, she sits upright, trying not to make contact with him, but after several minutes she becomes lost in her book and, unthinkingly, she leans back against his legs and drapes her elbow over one of his thighs. As if it were a reflex reaction, he crosses his legs at his ankles, and, enclosed in his warmth, she relaxes so much she eventually drifts off to sleep.

She comes back to consciousness painfully slowly; she hadn't realised how tired she is. She dreams, in fits and starts, of being a cat sitting in a lap, warm and safe, stroked and petted. She struggles to open her eyes and when she does she has to stifle a gasp.

Her head is resting on his thigh and, still reading, he is idly running his fingers through her hair! Does she pretend she's still asleep? Is he even aware that he's doing it? Even more disturbingly, why does her heart leap into her mouth when his fingertips brush the nape of her neck?

Suddenly, he snaps his book shut and lays his hand on the top of her head. "I must go," he says as if nothing at all was untoward. "You should get more sleep." And with that, he simply gets up and leaves the room without another word, leaving Dawn wondering why she feels so bereft, as the heat from where he sat cools steadily by the second.

oOo

She's shivering almost uncontrollably when he gets back, huddled in her corner, wrapped up in the fur from her bedding.

The second he sees her, he strides across the room, stopping briefly to look in the storage box where he keeps her emergency rations. Humans are not well fed on hives, yet her wraith keeps a small supply of dried fruit for her and always seems to sense when her blood-sugar level drops.

In two strides he is by her side and pushing a handful of dates into her hand. "Eat," he says starkly.

Dawn takes the fruit and shoves it into her mouth in one go before retreating back under her fur.

Still he stands and looks at her. "You must sleep," he tells her.

She simply stares at him. She knows he's aware that she still has chores to do, so why is he telling her she can sleep?

As if he had read her mind, he adds, "I have observed that you get cold like this when you are hungry and tired." So saying he turns and walks off to the far end of his room and busies himself with writing reports.

How did he know that? More importantly, why would he care? She's too tired to give it any real thought, so she curls up and tries to sleep.

She's drifting off, her head feeling pleasantly woozy, when she becomes aware that he is close. She feels warmth spread into her arm and shoulder. She dimly registers that he has lifted the cover over her exposed arm and tucked it over her shoulder.

Why would he do that? As warmth spreads through her body Dawn decides she must be simply dreaming and lets sleep carry her away.

oOo

"Will you sit still?" His voice is gruff with irritation and she instantly snaps to attention. "What is wrong with you?" he demands.

Dawn looks down as she twists her hands in her lap; the hands that had been scratching at her arms mere seconds ago. "I'm sorry, my skin is itchy. It's so dry on the hive…"

Roughly, he grabs her hand and pulls it toward him. He inspects the dry, flaky skin and then runs the flat of his palm along her forearm, surprising her with the gentleness of the gesture.

"Hmm. Hive environments are not built for humans," is all he says. He drops her arm. "I must start my bridge watch."

He stands up and leaves the room, leaving Dawn sitting there, open-mouthed and wondering what on earth that was all about.

oOo

When she returns from her chores at the end of the day, he is already back and sitting at his work station. On the big table in the corner there is a large and beautifully crafted glass bottle.

He sees it catch her attention and says simply, "It is for you."

Dawn picks it up, noting the delicate lilac colour of the viscous contents and opens the stopper. Immediately she smells lavender and sandalwood.

"I am told it is beneficial for your skin."

She can't think of anything suitable to say. So she simply says, "Thank you," walks into the sleeping area and starts smoothing the scented oil into her arms.

She's lost in the sensation of the balm soothing away the tight dryness that had been driving her to distraction. She doesn't notice him standing in the entrance to the room, watching her as she strips off all but her underwear and smoothes the oil over her skin.

His stomach flutters strangely at the way the oil makes her pale skin glisten in the soft pools of light in the room. He clamps down the thought, but continues to watch her.

She reaches up over her own shoulder and pushes at her elbow with her other hand, trying to force it further down her back, but fails. She tries to reach from below, bending her arm up her back, but fails again.

He strides silently across the room and scoops the bottle from her hand, making her jump in surprise. Without saying a word, he pours some oil into his hand and starts to smooth it over her back in long sweeps. Her muscles immediately tense at his initial touch, but within a few seconds, he feels them relax under his hands.

The oil soaks quickly into her parched skin and he applies another handful then, satisfied that her back is tended to, he hands her the bottle and wordlessly leaves the room.

Dawn is left uncertain whether to be relieved or disappointed.

oOo

The next night he does not wait for her to struggle to reach her back with the oil and, after several nights, she understands that he's taken it for granted that this is now part of their routine together, in the same way that she started her now daily care of his hair.

He starts out only oiling her back, the part she cannot reach herself, leaving her to complete the rest alone. But one night his hands sweep up and over her shoulders, down her arms. She catches his eye as he does so and can almost swear his expression is asking, "Is this all right?"

In spite of the fact that she now knows he can sense her emotions, she smiles at him, allowing herself to enjoy the physical contact.

He does not show any offense to her reaction to his touch. She presumes he senses and therefore understands how much she misses physical contact with another living being.

She also presumes that he knows she's grateful that he asks no more of her.

Or is she? She lies alone in her corner of his sleep area, trying to work out what this all means, what she feels… if he feels anything at all, let alone what his feelings might be. She drifts fitfully in and out of a troubled sleep.

She becomes dimly aware of him moving around the room - he has a run of night watches this month. She briefly wonders if she should get up and offer to help him get ready, but before she can make her heavy limbs move, she drifts off again.

The next time Dawn surfaces, she feels a light touch on her shoulder, too small to be a hand, but warm and soft. The touch is followed by a sigh; the heavy, resigned sigh of someone troubled.

She sinks back into sleep and dreams of him kissing her shoulder.

oOo

The next day sees Dawn restless in her sleep again. She wakes in the middle of the night and when she turns she startles him at least as much as she startles herself. Somehow she knows that he's been sitting there a while, just watching her sleep.

He composes himself within seconds and says quietly, "Your sleep is restless. Something troubles you?"

Put off guard by the concerned tone of his voice, she immediately launches into denials, but he puts his hand on her shoulder and almost whispers, "It's all right, you can tell me." But she hesitates too long and he thinks better of it. Standing abruptly, he adds, "Perhaps later."

He turns and leaves the room, gritting his teeth and squeezing his hands into fists as he walks the corridors to the bridge, trying to squeeze from his mind the image of her face as she slept.

Why can't she just admit it, he thinks… on the other hand, he admonishes himself, why can't he?

oOo

Dawn huddles in her corner, trying to keep the fur up to her chin, so as not to let the cold seep into her bones through any tiny little gap. Why is it always so cold at night in the hive?

She checks the chronometer in the corner and knows he'll be on watch for several hours yet - and meanwhile, his bed is empty. Could she dare? What would he do if he came back before morning and found her there?

Damn it to hell, she thinks! She leaps up from her corner on the floor and dives into the bed, burrowing into the deep-piled furs.

Curled up into a ball in the middle of the enormous sleeping area, it takes a while for the warmth to creep back into her body. When it does it brings with it a slightly musky odour, not unpleasant. In fact the longer Dawn lies there, the more pleasant the scent becomes and she eventually catches herself rolling in it, breathing it into herself in great lungfuls. What is she doing? Should she get out now that she's warm again?

Before she can decide, the warmth, combined with the soft fur and his musky scent, make her fall into the deepest sleep she's had in months.

oOo

She wakes up slowly, feeling groggy, so it's several minutes before she realises there's another body in the bed with her. The instant she sees him there, she leaps out, afraid. But she instinctively drags one of the covers with her, to cover her own nakedness. It tugs on the one covering him, which falls away from his shoulder, leaving him naked to the hip.

Ridiculously, she simply stands there, staring at him. The tattoo pattern on his face is echoed over his shoulder and down his back; along the full length of his spine he has ridges, like bone.

Dawn has never seen a half naked wraith before and she's mesmerised by just the sight of him.

Her trance is abruptly broken by his deep voice. "Are you going to stand there all day?" He doesn't move, doesn't turn to look at her, she can even see that he still has his eyes closed. But he adds, "Get back in or not, you decide. But pull the cover over my shoulder either way."

Dawn is stunned when she realises he's just given her permission to sleep in his bed. She hesitates barely a moment before she leaps back in, pulling the fur over his shoulder as she does.

Still he doesn't move. She curls into his back and falls asleep with her face buried in his hair.

oOo

Sleeping curled up against his back like this the last few days has been pleasant enough, certainly better than sleeping on a corner of the floor. Does he merely tolerate her in his bed, like some kind of persistent pet? Or does he get something from her closeness? Why does he never turn round?

Brazenly, Dawn slides her arms around his torso and holds him close against her own body, the hard ridges of his spine digging into her stomach, the flat of her hands on his chest. He doesn't move, doesn't respond in any way. But then again, he doesn't pull away from her either. Is he asleep already?

She wriggles away a little, drawing her hands from his chest and down his back. She traces the tattoos across his shoulder and down one side of his back, breaking where they skip at his waist and then continuing from his hip, down the front of one leg.

He lets out a snarled sigh when her fingers find their way back to his spine and the hard ridges there. Not asleep then, she thinks. "Do they hurt?"

"Of course not."

"I mean, when you lie on them."

He rolls over on to his back and looks up at her. "No. See?" Suddenly, he pushes his hands into her hair and pulls it up off her face. "You are very curious, aren't you?"

"Is that allowed?"

He smiles at her and replies, "It is certainly a refreshing change from constant fear."

Brazenly, Dawn swings her leg over his body and sits astride his hips. "Why would I be afraid of you?"

"Because I am a predator and you are my prey."

"On my world, Springboks roam the Savannah perfectly unafraid when they know the lions are not hungry." Dawn tells him. She leans forward, her hair sweeping softly across his chest, and tentatively brushes his lips with hers.

Spontaneously he brings his arms up to enfold her, caressing her smooth, ridge-free spine and coming to rest on the nape of her neck. He pulls her head down to his and nuzzles his face into her hair and neck, taking deep breaths of her deliciously defiant scent.

oOo

Dawn wakes up alone. She shouldn't be surprised, she tells herself. What did she expect - eggs over-easy on a sun-drenched patio? Their mating would mean nothing to him but a physical release. It wasn't exactly earth shattering for her, but then again, it certainly wasn't the worse coupling she's ever experienced.

Did she really think it could ever be anything else; that she could ever have a "relationship" with this wraith? What a fool! What made her think for one second that he might actually care for her? She berates herself constantly as she washes and dresses and gets ready for her day. Her day as a slave, she reminds herself. Nothing more.

She finds the note on the table, written in wraith naturally, but now she can read it. It informs her starkly that he has gone off-hive with a culling party to the planet they now orbit.

Her stomach does a small flip that he cared enough to tell her where he is, but she bites her lip and drives the thought from her mind.

During the course of her day's work Dawn can't help her thoughts wandering, even though she pulls her mind back to the tasks at hand and hates herself for thinking of him. But, in spite of her best efforts, she keeps recalling the smoothness of his skin, the softness of his hair, the way his gentle snarls and growls made her stomach do somersaults. If she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath she can smell him, even here, where she stands.

By the Goddess, Dawn pleads inwardly; don't let me fall in love with a wraith. Then she gasps when she realises her prayer has somehow morphed into, please, Goddess - keep him safe during the cull.

oOo

Dawn comes back to his quarters from her chores and evening meal, feeling depressed and embarrassed. She wanders the corridors slowly, not even certain that she wants to see him any sooner than she has to.

She enters his rooms with her head hanging despondently, but the room is empty. She sighs with relief and throws herself heavily onto the bench at the table. There, in the middle of the table is a large sea shell. She picks it up carefully and turns it over in her hands. A conch shell, bigger than both her fists together, it feels cool, smooth and hard under her fingers… the way she had once thought his skin would feel… but now she knows how soft and warm he is… well, at least physically, for she knows it would be a cold day in hell before he ever behaved in a soft and warm manner with her, a mere human.

She jumps when he interrupts her thoughts by coming through from his other room. He sees her sitting stroking the shell with her small, soft fingers and hides a secret smile.

"Where did this come from?" she asks.

"I brought it back from the planet," he replies nonchalantly. "I thought you might like it."

"On a culling mission?" she says, incredulously. "You thought of me and brought me a gift?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "It is nothing. That planet is full of beaches and they are covered with shells."

"I see," Dawn says, not even trying to hide her smile as he busies himself around the room, studiously ignoring her.

oOo

When she curls up in his bed that night Dawn knows she'll never have any declarations of love, nor will he ever make the kind of romantic gestures she's been used to from human males. She lies there, looking at the sea shell he brought her where it now sits in a pool of light on the bench under the window that looks out at the stars; the stars he's taught her about - not just to recognise their formations but to see their infinite beauty.

Dawn had told him how much she missed the wide open sea of her home world… was she reading too much into the fact that he brought her a shell, not a pine cone or a pebble?

Ready for sleep now, he turns his back to her as he always does. But this time he reaches back and takes her hand, pulling her close into his back and tucking her hand in under his arm.

She falls asleep knowing that this is her life now and she must give up all thoughts of romantic moments on sunset beaches with human lovers making grand gestures. But her sleep tonight is peaceful and her dreams contented, for somehow she understands that, for him, as a wraith, these little things mean so much more anyway.

THE END


End file.
